A Civil Disturbance
by averycide
Summary: YES, MINISTER; BERNARD/HUMPHREY; IN-PROGRESS. “Don’t play the fool, Bernard. You’re distracted, and it’s most unbecoming.”
1. Of Entrances And Egos

**❝ A Civil Disturbance: Of Entrances And Egos. ❞**  
_I own neither the Minister, nor his boys. I'm merely borrowing them. _

--

"Good evening, Bernard,"

Clasping a folded copy of _The Times_ to his ribcage, Sir Humphrey entered the Minister's antechamber with his customary grace, nodding briefly at the Private Secretary. His greeting, however, fell upon deaf ears; Bernard was still seated behind his desk, hunkered down over a leather-bound folder - the Minister's diary, most probably - with a pen clasped loosely in his right hand, completely unaware of the Under Secretary's presence. With a sharp, pointed cough, however, Humphrey announced himself for the second time, and pursed his lips as Bernard visibly attempted to collect himself.

"Oh - ah - good evening, Sir Humphrey," he pushed himself up onto his feet in a belated gesture of respect, closing the diary and slipping the pen into the inner pocket of his jacket, "I do apologize, I was just, ah--"

"Quite," Humphrey interjected, brushing away whatever excuse he would have been treated to with a vague shake of his head, "Is the Minister free?"

"I'm afraid he's with press officer," Bernard, noting Humphrey's inquisitive glance towards the face of his watch, pressed on with the half-hashed explanation he himself had been given, "Something to do with tomorrow's tabloids, I believe. They've been at it since a half past three,"

"I see," Humphrey sighed, all too familiar with Hacker's fascination with publicity, "Well, I've a meeting with Sir Frank and the Minister's ego does not hold up as a reputable excuse," he turned towards the door, consulting his watch for a second time. As he raised his eyes, preparing to make his exit, he caught an unfathomable expression cross Bernard's face and paused, not through concern but more through sheer exasperation, "What is it, Bernard?"

The Private Secretary regained his look of neutrality quickly, countering the question with a flippant, almost-innocent inquiry of his own, "What's what, Sir Humphrey?"

"Don't play the fool, Bernard. You're distracted, and it's most unbecoming. What's happened?" Humphrey nodded in the direction of Hacker's office, "Has he been exercising his right to free will again?"

"Oh, no," a chuckle, only forced in part, tinted his denial, "Not quite as serious as that, sir. No, I ran into Sir Frank earlier, that's all. In the elevator, you see,"

"Ah," Humphrey allowed himself a thin-lipped smile, smug in his own understanding of the situation, "Say no more. While I've nothing against Frank, _per se_, impromptu meetings with anybody from the Treasury do tend to confound the uninitiated,"

"Well, yes, but--"

"But nothing, Bernard," Humphrey opened the door, turning back to bid goodbye to the Private Secretary, "Just put it from your mind. Be sure to tell the Minister I called in, won't you?"

"Of course, Sir Humphrey," he nodded, folding himself back into the chair as soon as the Under Secretary closed the door behind him. Instinctively, he ran a hand through his hair, then pulled out the pen once more, repeating the affirmation in a mutter, if only for his own benefit.

"Of course."


	2. Of Rules And Rugby

**❝ A Civil Disturbance: Of Rules And Rugby. ❞**  
_I own neither the Minister, nor his boys. I'm merely borrowing them._

--

"And how is your minister?"

Taking the glass of Scotch from Sir Frank, Humphrey settled back into the chair, ruminating carefully over the question. Summing up Jim Hacker's progress in the Department of Administrative Affairs was not a task he undertook lightly, not even in the context of conversation, and he found himself looking for adjectives in a mouthful of the liquor. Sir Frank, however, was versed in such unspoken language and nodded, chortling into his barrel of a chest as he poured a second glass for himself.

"It's early days yet, Frank," Humphrey remarked, at last, in a pensive manner, "To tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure what to make of him; he alternates freely between rampant narcissism and perceived superiority. Still, we'll soon make an impression on him," he raised his glass slightly, toasting the insidious inner-workings of Her Majesty's Civil Service.

"Ah, I don't doubt that" the Under Secretary to the Treasury chuckled into his barreled chest, "Titles tend to create an entirely fabricated sense of prestige in new ministers, despite the fact that the magnitude of paperwork is almost always inversely proportionate to the final aggregate of power. The Chancellor is a fine example: he's been locked away in his study for the past three days, working through box after box, yet the economy is working perfectly well without him," Frank caught Humphrey's eye and raised his eyebrow in infinitely meaningful way.

"I'm tempted to ante a little on the date of their eventual burn-outs," Humphrey paused, drumming the fingers of his free hand against his knee, "Unfortunately, betting on the definite offers no worthy return. Even the Private Secretary has suspended his usual raffle in lieu of something with a little more _risk_,"

"Risk," he chortled, apparently indulging in something of a private joke, "Yes, I ran into your boy this morning. He's bordering on hapless, if you ask me,"

"Really?" Humphrey, in a rare moment of candor, allowed himself to sound both surprised and curious by such an abrupt judgement; Bernard had, after all, been tipped as a high-flier, and hadn't yet committed any irreparable foul. As a matter of fact, he'd been rather satisfied with the Private Secretary's progress thus far, and so pressed Sir Frank for more information, "What makes you think so?"

Frank puckered his lips, "Well, speaking of risk, he's not exactly one for taking it," he paused, and leant forwards in his chair in the manner of a man about to impart some grand cipher, "Not _game_, you see,"

"Oh, my dear Frank," he chuckled derisively, "I'm quite sure he is. Just not by your rules, perhaps?"

"In that case, perhaps you should have a word with him about letting the team down. I'd hate to see him retired out before scoring a good few runs,"

"Funny," remarked Humphrey, reclining a little further into the padded seat and rolling his Scotch over the rocks, "I always had you pegged as more of a rugger man, myself."


End file.
